


fear is a puppeteer

by tonberrys



Series: ATLA/LOK Pro-Bending Competition, Season 5 [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fire Nation Royalty, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:05:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonberrys/pseuds/tonberrys
Summary: Azula is not afraid.





	fear is a puppeteer

Fear was a puppeteer with strings pulled taut, tugging at arms and legs and spinning wheels in the mind until those wheels rattled loose.

_(Love, acceptance, reassurance will never come unless you try, try, try harder. You will never be strong. You will never be enough unless you push, push, push - wrangle - control.)_

The fires surrounded Azula, glimmering in her eyes and burning beneath her skin with purpose. Glory and acceptance were drawn to her like a swarm of flittering moths, hot and thrilling as she ascended like a lord upon her dais, grasping each new skill as one might a scepter. On her face she painted a curling smile, maneuvered those around her like pieces on a pai sho board -- a game with far more intrigue than her uncle's play at it -- and in that power she found safety. Security. Invulnerability.

Fear was a weapon at her fingertips. Fear spread beneath her skin and crept through her heart like embers eating its way through parchment, leaving scorching rings in its wake.

_”Azula, what is wrong with you?”_

Her mother’s voice rang loudly in Azula’s ears, echoing through the years and colliding within the walls of her mind like a locked chamber.

_”Sometimes I wonder if-”_

In the golden flames of her crown, sometimes she could still see her mother's eyes staring back, watching her-

-judging her.

_”Zuko, sweetheart-”_

The weak required coddling, reassurance, gentle words and hugs and hair smoothed across the forehead when their chests were burning up with loneliness and fear. Their fear was weak. Zuko’s fear was weak. Her fear was strong. Her fear was power.

_”Why can’t you be gentle with it?”_

_“Be sweet to your brother, Azula. There's no need to be cruel. He's-”_

Weak, weak, weak.

Zuko was a fool, soft, incompetent. Zuko was nothing like her -- Zuko was nothing next to her -- Zuko was nothing --

Zuko was nothing in their father’s eyes, razor-keen like sharpened blades of amber, brazened and gutting, and though Zuko clawed, he couldn't win, couldn't beat her, could never beat her. (Weak, weak, weak.) That scorched red scar on his face was a sign of his ineptitude, his failure, his lack of decorum, his loss of ‘honor’ in the eyes of their father. She could still remember those tears streaming down his face, could still feel the heat emanating from the stage of that historic Agni Kai. Burned into her mind was the day her brother’s shame was put on display for all of the Fire Nation to see; the day their family split, and she became an only child, if temporarily.

Or perhaps not so temporarily, in light of her brother's treacherous behavior. Thinking that useless ragtag group of imbeciles was enough, that they could ever be enough… Zuko thought he could be strong, but he was weak, weak, not like Azula. Azula was the strong one, the talented one, the bright one, the cunning one, the strategic one-

Azula would never be like him, grovelling at their father's feet. That looming shadow would not hang over her, would never cast her in darkness. No, the fires blazed hot from her fingertips, and she would turn it on the world, yanking it about like a puppeteer’s strings.

They were all fools, all of them. Zuko -- and her mother --

Contempt -- it was contempt, Azula had always seem in her mother's eyes, contempt and disappointment and fear, like staring at some misbehaving animal instead of her daughter. Hatred -- her mother hated her, feared her, had no love left after Zuko, weak Zuko-

(It did not matter. Azula did not care, did not want her mother’s love. Who needed gentle words? It was the Fire Lord’s support that mattered, power, protection, the acceptance of a father who saw her potential-)

Her father may not see her, may not see the girl underneath that gleaming golden crown, but what did it matter? What did it matter when it was he who pulled those strings, maneuvering the world around them? The Fire Lord valued power, valued greatness, valued _her_ -

She would be his greatness, would be her own greatness, would force this greatness on those nations who would not seize it for themselves. 

If she failed-

(In her father's eyes, amber flames would burn hot, scorching, coursing through her blood as it burned her up from the inside. His disappointment, his imperious gaze, the heat of his scorn- Never, never, never.)

She would never be weak. It was Princess Azula, Fire Lord Azula, who would always wield the flames of fear, brazen and bold as it pressed down upon those who lacked the nerve to do what had to be done. Never would fear wield her like a common blade.

She was not afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for the AtLA Pro-Bending Circuit 2017, Round 4 (Fear) on ffnet.
> 
> Character: Azula  
> Fear: Weakness, being unloved  
> Additional Prompt: 3rd person


End file.
